


System Breach

by sad_ghost_kid



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is made to feel pain, Connor whump, Gen, Hank is a Good Dad, Wounded Connor, aaaaand introducing gavin! the prick that everyone loves, and decided to be the change i wanted to see in the world, and fuck it hurts, and maybe pull some strings along the way, connor basically gets halfway to becoming a deviant bc of feeling pain, connor isn't very good at thinking ahead when he's scared, connor keeps getting into trouble and hank keeps rescuing his plastic ass, details of android repairs, forreal though he's a piece of shit. especially in this fic, gratuitous use of android LEDs as storytelling devices, hank has no chill but honestly someone's gotta keep connor safe lol, hurt Connor, injured Connor, it messes him up bro, kamski is a wonderful morally gray character. he just wants to watch the world burn, my poor boy, now featuring memory loss!, now with added plot!, self harm tw, written solely bc i wanted more connor whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_ghost_kid/pseuds/sad_ghost_kid
Summary: Something in Connor decided not to tell Hank about the virus that did... nothing. It did nothing; and it was irrelevant, anyway. He would be fine.AKAI needed an excuse for Connor to feel pain, and he starts to unravel because of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god, ME posting a fic? since when?? anyway, i was working on this over the past few days and it came to a natural conclusion so i decided to post it. i MAY add more, if i get the inspiration. but until then, please enjoy this oneshot. 
> 
> i apologize if Hank seems ooc, i was really trying to channel how he handles Connor being injured, especially if the two are very close. I just love their dynamic, and Connor is just so perfect to beat up. 
> 
> also worth noting, that this Connor is Mark 1.

The deviant android that Hank and Connor had been hunting for the past two days was an alarming case, to say the least. In its wake, the deviant had left behind half a dozen corrupted androids, all with processors damaged beyond repair.

. . .

_Warning: System Breach_  
_Warning: Foreign Code Entering System_  
 _Activating Firewalls_  
 _Firewalls Active_  
 _Processing..._  
 _Warning: Data Breach_  
 _Diagnostic Initiated_  
 _Processing..._  
 _Warning: Foreign Code Active_  
 _Warning: Servos shutting down_  
 _Processing..._  
 _Diagnostic Results: Limb and Automotive Processes Temporarily Disabled._  
 _Limb and Automotive Processes Reenabled in 5 Minutes 48 Seconds_

"There, that should keep you... docile," grimaced the deviant as Connor slumped against the alley wall. Just before his legs could crumple below him, the deviant pressed his forearm against Connor's throat, pinning him to the wall.

With green eyes, the deviant peered at Connor, "Oh, you're a special one, aren't you, RK800? Top of the line, in every way. You look and sound more like them than any of us ever could. ...And yet, you're still so... rigid. Robotic." The deviant pressed it's forearm harder against Connor's throat, pinning him further against the wall. Connor did not respond. "I've been saving a little something, something that even my own processor couldn't handle. But yours... I think you will be perfect." With a dark grin, the deviant pulled a small data tube from its pocket, holding it up for a moment to let it glint in the low light. Warning signals flickered in Connor's vision at the imminent danger, but he could not move to defend himself. Without another moment's hesitation, the deviant all but stabbed the data tube into Connor's throat, letting the virus enter his system. Connor's eyes fluttered as his internal firewalls and antivirus protocols fought back against the intrusion; his LED flickered from yellow to red. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

And yet... Nothing changed. His defense protocols found nothing. There was no damage aside from the small nick to the synthetic skin of his throat. Everything seemed... normal. But the deviant's smug grin still made Connor feel... uneasy. His LED stayed red.

"Connor!" Hank's voice boomed from the mouth of the alley, causing the deviant to startle.

The deviant quickly pulled away from Connor, glancing around with an expression of panic as it calculated an escape route. After only a second of processing, it took off down the alley, vaulting over a chain-link fence with ease before disappearing from view.

With the deviant no longer holding him to the wall, Connor slumped to the ground, knees buckling below him. It would take his system another 1 minute 58 seconds to finish isolating the stun program.

In seconds, Hank reached his charge, quickly crouching beside him where he sat like a broken doll, "Connor, kid, you okay?" Connor wasn't making any attempt to stand up, or to even look up at Hank, and his LED was a bright red in the dim alleyway. It made the pit of dread in Hank's stomach sink deeper.

Connor twitched, willing his head to move, to look up at Hank. Thankfully, his voice synthesizer had not been affected by the stun. "Lieutenant," Connor started, voice sounding distant to his own audio processors. The movements of his mouth were just slightly out of sync. "I will be fine. Please, don't let the deviant escape."

Hank's tone was gruff, but Connor could detect the rare concern in his voice, "I'm not going anywhere until I make sure you're okay, kid. What did that fucker do to you? Why aren't you moving?"

What Connor deemed to be a simulation of fear welled up in his chest for a moment before subsiding. Hank was here, he was going to be okay. He wouldn't shut down, not today. Decidedly matter of fact, Connor stated, "The deviant caught me off guard and infected my system with a temporary stun protocol. My servos will be back online in approximately one minute." Something in Connor decided not to tell Hank about the virus that did... nothing. It did nothing; and it was irrelevant, anyway. He would be fine.

_Diagnostic Initiated_   
_Processing..._

"Jesus Christ, kid. You're that easy to take down?"

"I assure you it was not easy, Lieutenant. The deviant used a very sophisticated program to incapacitate me." Briefly, Connor sensed a growing instability in his software. He still felt afraid; or to be objective, felt a simulation of fear. "I've never seen anything like it."

_Diagnostic Results: Limb and Automotive Processes Temporarily Disabled. No Other Abnormalities Detected._

"Well, shit," Hank huffed, before pausing, "Can you move yet?"

Connor remained silent, letting the imminent countdown speak for itself.

_Limb and Automotive Processes Reenabled in 4... 3... 2... 1..._

Connor lifted his head, and his LED finally cycled down from red to yellow.

Hank heaved a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging. After a moment, he reached out, slipping an arm around Connor's shoulders before helping him to stand.

Connor was a little unsteady at first, but as he leaned against Hank, his LED faded back to blue.

. . .

The next day, they found a lead. An android matching the description of the deviant who had attacked Connor had been reported seen at a motel a dozen blocks east of their last encounter.

The two had split up, Hank taking the ground floor of the motel, and Connor taking the second. The green-eyed deviant had been reported hiding in a vacant room, but the witness had not specified which room. There were three vacant rooms on the second floor of the motel, and four on the bottom.

As Connor entered the first room, he activated his peripheral sensors, looking for anything that may be out of place. He checked under the bed, in the bathroom, and for any evidence that the walls or ceiling had been disturbed. Nothing.

The second room initially seemed to be more of the same. That was, until Connor made his way towards the closed bathroom door. He was just barely out of range when the door slammed open, nearly clipping his nose as it went. Reflexively, Connor took a few steps back.

For a moment, the two androids simply stood there, staring at each other.Then the expression on the deviant's face became one of malicious excitement, "RK800, what a pleasure to see you again. I see you survived the day in one piece since we last met. Tell me, have you figured out my little virus yet?"

_Diagnostic Initiated_   
_Processing..._   
_Diagnostic Results: No Anomalies Detected_

Connor didn't respond. Instead, he was about to lunge, to take the deviant down, but he did not get the chance to act before the deviant pulled a gun, aiming at point blank.

Once again, Connor felt fear. He did not want to die.

_Software Instability ^_

Steeling himself, Connor weighed his options, processor working overtime to figure out a plan of action before the deviant shot him where he stood. There were two options that provided any chance of success:

_1\. Grab the gun, pull the deviant towards him and incapacitate._   
_Chance of success 61%_   
_2\. Dive for cover._   
_Chance of success 38%_

But again, Connor didn't get a chance to act.

The deviant lowered his gun slightly, only to immediately fire two shots. One to Connor's shoulder, and the other to his thigh.

Like a sack of loose metal, Connor collapsed to the floor. An intensely uncomfortable, burning, searing, terrible sensation overcame him, overriding his senses. Pain, he realized. He was in pain. The shocked cry erupted like static from his voice synthesizer.

Connor's back arched as he writhed, trying to get up, desperate to defend himself. He did not want to shut down! He did not want to die!

_Warning: Noncritical Damage Sustained to:_   
_-Right Shoulder_   
_-Right Thigh_   
_CyberLife Contacted - Repair Technician En Route_   
_Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 93%_   
_Wärñįńg: Føręîgñ Šôftwårę Dętēčtëd_   
_Software Instability ^_   
_Software Instability ^_   
_Software Instability ^_

Face scrunching in pain, Connor groaned; his simulated breathing was rapid and shallow. His vision blurred behind flashing red warnings as a shadow came over him.

"Oh, what a masterpiece I have created. Now, you really are special," chuckled the deviant in a disdainful yet smug tone as it crouched over the struggling android. The words were barely picked up by Connor as he clutched desperately at his sparking wounds.

Thirium was rapidly soiling the motel carpet as the deviant stood and made his escape. Connor sensed the deviant leaving, just moments before a second set of footsteps began rapidly approaching.

Connor arched his back again, trying desperately to look towards the door behind him. "Hank...!" he rasped, "H-help! Please!" The pain pulsated as his Thirium pump struggled to keep up with the decreasing internal pressure. His hands were slick with blue-blood as he clawed at his chest, desperate to stop the flow.

There was a slam as the motel door rapidly opened, followed by heavy footsteps and the cock of a gun.

"I heard gunshots, are y-- Oh god, Connor!"

Connor gasped, brown eyes wide and glassy with tears, "H-Hank... help... It-it hurts..."

Hank was at Connor's side within a moment, pulling him into his lap. The movement caused a gasp to tumble from Connor's lips; the tears in his eyes welled over. Thirium stained Hank's shirt as he held the shaking android to him, "Connor, what happened? What do you mean it hurts? You'd better not die on me, kid!"

_Software Instability ^_

Connor shuddered, damaged wires causing painful misfires. Struggling, he managed, "Deviant... shot me... n-nonlethal... hnn-hurts!" Connor's bright red LED flickered dangerously. "Don't... know why..."

"Hey, hey, you're gonna be okay. We'll get you put back together, don't worry." How the hell was this android experiencing _pain_?

Desperate brown eyes stared up at Hank, "It huuurts-!"

Not knowing what else to do, Hank began rocking Connor back and forth. "I know it does, I know it hurts. Please, son, what can I do?" He wasn't going to lose his second chance at having a kid, at having a family. Not today.

Connor reached up with a wet, blue-stained hand, grabbing at Hank's arm. "C-CyberLife... is coming... Please don't... don't tell them... I-I-" Connor visibly tried to still himself, and his breathing almost smoothed out. He willed his body to obey him, desperate to hide the agony.

_Software Instability ^_

The CyberLife technician would not be long.

Confused but trusting, Hank rushed, "I won't, I won't." He didn't understand (wouldn't Connor want to be fixed if he was feeling so horribly?) but he valued the android's judgement.

It was not two minutes before the repair android from CyberLife arrived. As it knelt beside the two, it reported pleasantly, "Hello, I am a repair technician sent by CyberLife. I am here to repair damage sustained by RK800."

Reluctant to release his charge, Hank laid Connor flat on the floor. He moved as carefully as possible, managing not to jostle Connor's wounds.

The repair tech did not so much as take a second to process before initiating the repair. It retrieved tools from its bag, and began to reconnect the damaged wiring in Connor's thigh.

Connor was remarkably still, the only giveaways being the occasional trembling, and the fact that he had entirely stopped simulating breathing. The repair technician did not seem suspicious in the least.

It took twenty minutes for the technician to finish internal repairs. It placed skin colored patches over the damaged areas on Connor's leg and torso; the patches quickly melted to repair the plastic barrier. As the last gap in flesh sealed up, Connor could not restrain a sharp groan. The other android paused for a brief moment, but did not seem truly fazed as it immediately began packing its things.

As the repair android pushed itself up from its knees to its heels, it stated, "My work is complete. RK800 requires no further repairs or maintenance. Thank you for choosing CyberLife, have a good day." With that, the android departed.

Eyes closed, Connor laid still on the motel floor. His LED cycled from red to yellow, revealing still persistent stress. He began simulating breathing again, inhales and exhales coming slow and steady, though still a bit shaky. It was clear to Hank that he was still quite shaken up.

"Okay, let's get you up," led Hank, gruff but fatherlike. He slipped a hand under Connor's shoulders, helping him sit up. He could feel Connor trembling. "You're okay, c'mon." Pulling Connor's arm over his shoulder to support him, Hank helped the android climb to his feet.

Connor swayed as if dizzy, eyes tightly closing. His yellow LED flickered.

Not sure what else to do, Hank took a few steps, helping Connor move to sit on the motel bed.

"I thought that I was going to die... I mean, I knew the damage would not cause me to shut down but--" Connor shook his head, then looked down at his hands, at the bright blue staining his skin. After a moment, he anxiously wiped his palms on his trousers.

Hank stared at Connor; all of a sudden his behavior was so... human. How did this happen?

_Software Instability ^_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to find the source of the virus, taking some rather desperate measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU all so much for the huge response to this story! I don't think anything of mine has blown up this fast, and i've been writing for the past 12 years :O  
> so here we have a second chapter! wow! who knew i had it in me? i sure didn't. there's not as much blatant whump in this chapter, but that doesn't mean Connor is okay ;)
> 
> i admittedly have not proofread this as much as i would like, but i really wanted to get it posted, so here you go. This story is definitely not ending with this chapter, so hopefully i can keep going! 
> 
> please note the upgrade to Graphic Depictions of Violence!
> 
> btw, this was written while listening almost exclusively to Gasoline by Halsey lol

Thirty two minutes later, as he turned the key in the old car's ignition, Hank caught himself checking to make sure that Connor had put on his seatbelt.  
  
They had called in the incident shortly after Connor had calmed down enough to be able to give a report, which had taken surprisingly long. And even then, his LED still had yet to return to it's typical calm blue.  
  
Hank glanced at Connor, just long enough to see a fastened seatbelt. Shaking his head, Hank threw the car into reverse, beginning to back out from the motel lot. They were heading home; or at least, to Hank's home. The Lieutenant had insisted that Connor come with him... just in case.  
  
Though it was only noticeable to the human that knew him best, Connor was visibly shaken by the experience he had just had. The android's expression alone was a giveaway: mildly furrowed brows and pursed lips revealing confusion, frustration, and worry. Hank still did not know if Connor was capable of feeling such emotions, but he took the android's expression at face value. There was that, and of course the fact that Connor occasionally rubbed gingerly at the two places he had been shot. His clothes were still torn and stained with blue.  
  
The drive to Hank's home was quiet. It was late, so traffic was minimal. Connor hadn't so much as said a word since he had gotten in the car, and he had barely put up a fight against going to Hank's house for the night. Hank didn't know where Connor went when the two parted ways each day, but he figured, wherever it was, it probably sucked. He probably got stuck in a glorified closet at Cyberlife for safe keeping every night.  
  
Hank didn't know what he was going to do with Connor once he got home, but at least the android would be safe. That, and he wouldn't be completely alone.  
  
It was cold in the house when they got there, but Hank didn't seem fazed, making a beeline to the fridge to grab a beer. Connor, remarkably, didn't pay much attention to this. _  
_  
Connor stood just inside the doorway, yellow LED holding steady. He was far too wrapped up in his thoughts, processor running at near full capacity. His expression was blank, arms slack at his side. Internally, he was far from composed. No matter how many times he ran a diagnostic, he could not find any anomalies in his system.  
  
_Diagnostic Initiated_  
_Processing..._   
_Diagnostic Results: No Anomalies Detected_

 _Diagnostic Initiated_  
_Processing..._  
_Diagnostic Results: No Anomalies Detected_

Where was it? Where was the code that the deviant had injected into him, the code that made him feel pain? Had it corrupted any of his other systems, or did it just affect his synthetic nerves? He knew the virus was somewhere in his coding, hidden. _  
_  
_"Oh, what a masterpiece I have created. Now, you really are special."  
  
_ The words echoed in Connor’s mind, along with a vivid image of the data tube the deviant had used the day before.  He remembered being shot, and remembered the glitched warning that followed the rush of pain. The memories made his stress levels rise; Connor refused to admit that he was feeling fear again. He was an android, he did not have emotions like humans did. He was an android, and feeling pain should not bother him. He was not alive, so hardware damage or shutdown were not rational concerns. And yet, he could remember desperately not wanting to die. Much to his frustration, the only reason his overworked processor could produce as to why he felt such fear was that he was becoming deviant. _  
  
_ And Connor would not become deviant.  
  
_Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 64%  
__Software Instability ^  
__Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 78%  
  
_ “Connor! What the fuck are you doing, just standing there?”  
  
Connor came back to himself with a shudder, blinking until his electronic eyes refocused. He realized that his synthetic breathing had stopped. He forced it to resume, breaths stuttering.  
  
Hank was directly in front of the android, alcohol fresh on his breath. Whatever concern Hank felt for Connor right now was deftly hidden behind the man’s gruff exterior. In truth, he had been deeply frightened by the events of the evening, but it was easier to hide it now that the danger had passed. It was easier to be drunk and angry than to deal with the fact that his _robot_ partner had been whimpering in _pain_ in his arms not two hours ago.  
  
Outwardly cool and collected, Connor responded, “My apologies, Lieutenant. I was simply—”  
  
Hank waved his hand, suddenly feeling guilty for snapping at the android. The boy had just been _bleeding in his arms_ not that long ago, damn it! Machine or not, Hank had to have some compassion, especially since it was blatantly clear by the still-yellow LED that Connor was not alright. He set down the beer in his hand, deciding that being drunk may be easier for him, but not for Connor.  
  
Hank turned around, motioning for Connor to follow. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you into some clean clothes.” Surely, there was something old in the back of his dresser that would fit the slim android.  
  
Connor hesitated, but found himself following Hank after a moment. “Lieutenant, there is no need. CyberLife can deliver a change of uniform for me in the morning.”  
  
“Yeah?” grunted Hank, “And what are you going to wear until then? You are sure as hell not sitting on my couch with those bloody clothes.” _  
  
_ Connor relented, “Fair point.”  
  
Once in the bedroom, Hank kicked away the empty cans and bottles at the foot of his dresser, before bending to open the bottom drawer. He still had some clothes from his younger days, and though they would likely still be a bit big on Connor, they would definitely fit better than anything he wore currently.  
  
Pulling out a black long-sleeve shirt and some gray sweatpants, he tossed them in Connor’s direction, “Catch.”  
  
Fumbling, the android caught the two articles of clothing. Faintly, he smiled, “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Without hesitation, Connor began to undress, stained hands deftly removing his tie.  
  
“Hey, hey! Wash your hands first, damnit!”  
  
“Sorry Lieutenant.” _  
_  
Hank shook his head, “Don’t be sorry, kid.” He was too damned sober for this. _  
  
_. . .  
  
An hour passing found Connor sitting on the living room sofa, Sumo sound asleep beside him. He rubbed at his chest absently with one hand, at the place that one of the bullets had pierced him. There was nothing left but the memory of the pain.  
  
Connor looked up when Hank stood from the lounge chair. Hank’s tone was rough, but Connor could sense the underlying care, “Alright, I’m going to bed. You probably don’t sleep but there’s pillows and blankets if you want them.” For the past hour, all Hank could think of was the expression on Connor’s face while he had _cried_ from the pain. He wanted to help the android, but what could he do? He was just a washed up cop with an alcohol problem, not some master android specialist. He didn’t know how to make it better.  
  
So he decided to just leave Connor to it, and made his way to the bedroom. The guilt ate at him.  
  
Now alone in the living room, Connor looked at the television, which droned quietly across the room. It was an episode of an old cop drama from the early 2000’s—Hank’s youth, Connor noted. It was a fairly linear and predictable narrative, and Connor’s attention faded. The pull back to worried thoughts was hard to resist.  
  
He knew for a fact that he had been infected with some sort of foreign code. Something had undoubtedly been uploaded into his system when the deviant had attacked him the day before, and he had been aware of the program’s activation earlier that day. What he didn’t know, though, was where the bit of code had hidden itself in his vastly intricate programming. The only tool left in Connor’s personal arsenal was a full system scan, which would take about an hour and a half to execute. The only reason he hadn’t done it yet was because he would have to go into standby mode for the duration of the scan. And doing that with Hank around was very likely to arouse suspicion; Connor already felt vulnerable enough.  
  
Taking one final simulated breath as all non-essential functions slowed to a stop, Connor leaned his head back on the old sofa. His eyes closed, yellow LED flickering. If he were human, Connor would have looked as if he was falling asleep. But he _wasn’t_ human, he was an android. And androids didn’t need sleep.  
  
Connor fought the welling simulations of emotions, forcing himself to remain in control. Becoming stressed about the ambiguity of what constituted life got him absolutely nowhere. Connor felt himself go limp as the full system scan initiated.  
  
_Full System Scan Progress: 0.1%  
__Number of Items Scanned: 138  
__Processing…  
  
_. . .  
  
_Full System Scan Complete  
__Results: No Anomalies Detected  
  
_ Connor felt numb as he came back to himself. The system scan had found… nothing? How could that have happened? That just didn’t make sense. Unless… the foreign code was so thoroughly integrated into his own programs, that the two were now indistinguishable. Was that even possible?  
  
There was one resource left in Connor’s programming, but it was one he did not dare acknowledge as such. The option was to send a report to CyberLife, but just as it had earlier that evening, the thought of doing so filled him with fear. He knew that if he reported this to CyberLife, they would turn him into a glorified lab rat, picking him apart until they found the anomaly in his code. He would spend the rest of his existence in a white-walled laboratory, being subjected to battery after battery of tests he could not even begin to imagine. They would tear into him until he was completely unrecognizable, until all he knew was pain. Only after they had pulled every ounce of information from his body, would they then deactivate and dispose of him.  
  
The probability of this path was far too high for Connor’s comfort; his Thirium pump increased its pace. He did not want to ~~die~~ be shut down. _  
  
__Probability of Outcome: 89%  
__Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 82%  
  
_ Connor’s LED cycled red for one complete second, before fading back to its persistent yellow. With effort, he had forced the warning codes from his view, even though doing so conflicted with his mission. There was nothing he could do about the fear but wait it out.  
  
_Stress Levels Decreasing - 75%  
__Stress Levels Decreasing - 63%  
  
_ As his Thirium pump returned to a regular interval, a thought came into Connor’s mind. Perhaps he could located the foreign code if he activated it? _  
  
_ The thought rapidly became all-consuming, processor churning out probability scenarios by the millisecond. Within a minute, he had stood from the couch—ever careful to not wake Sumo. Connor padded silently to the kitchen of the house.    
  
Once in the kitchen, he activated his peripheral sensors, scanning for the most used kitchen drawers. The one with the most fingerprints and wear was the drawer to the right of the sink. Connor opened it, finding exactly what he was looking for. With his left hand, Connor reached into the drawer and retrieved a large knife. His LED flickered to red.  
  
Almost hesitating, Connor rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, baring his forearm. His simulated breathing stilled to a halt.  
  
With a light hand, Connor dragged the blade across his arm, creating a thin white line. He had not broken the skin. His fists tightened.  
  
A little harder, Connor pressed down, slicing ever so slightly into that same, precise line. A hiss pulled through his lips.  
  
Harder again, and Connor stiffened. Blue blood beaded at the surface of his synthetic flesh.  
  
_Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 77%  
  
_ Bracing himself, Connor decided to finish his experiment with one last attempt. The fear of the pain nearly stilled his hand, but he carried on, determined to get an opportunity to find the virus in his code. Within an instant, there was an inch deep slice in Connor’s forearm. In pain, he yelped, immediately overwhelmed. His hand spasmed, causing the knife to clatter loudly to the tile floor. Thirium sputtered, dripping rapidly. His arm became consumed with burning pain, radiating from the deep cut in his flesh. He knew that he had not damaged any critical hardware, but that knowledge didn’t alleviate the agony in the slightest.  
  
Connor pulled down his sleeve almost reflexively, before activating the most intensive diagnostic/system scan he could manage without blacking out into standby mode. As the scan begun, nearly all of Connor’s CPU became active, causing him to collapse to his knees behind the kitchen table. He was desperate.  
  
. . .  
  
On the other side of the small house, Hank laid awake in bed. His body was too sober and his brain was too overwhelmed for sleep to reach him. Hell, it had been a full hour and a half since he had gone to bed.  
  
His mind had been occupied with swirling thoughts of the android in the other room. Somehow, Connor had developed the ability to feel pain. Was that a new CyberLife update? No, if it had been, Connor would have known what was happening to him. Could he have contracted a virus? But how would that happen? Could something have happened during the two run-ins with the green-eyed deviant? Hank did not have enough evidence to support even a vague theory, and all his thinking had succeeded in was an anxious heartbeat and a feeling of frustration.  
  
Sighing, Hank forced himself to calm down; he listened to the silence of the house.  
  
Hank had just barely started breathing regularly when he heard a loud clatter in the kitchen, followed by a faint thud. If he hadn’t been laying there quietly, wide awake, he wouldn’t have heard it.  
  
Muscle memory lighting up, Hank was out of bed in an instant, hands going straight for his sidearm on the nightstand. Was there someone in his house? Was there a deviant in his house—was it _the_ deviant? The one who had hurt Connor? _  
  
_ Was Connor okay?  
  
It was awfully quiet.  
  
Barefoot, Hank crept to the edge of the hall; from there, he’d be able to get a vantage point to the rest of the house. He wondered, hoping for a harmless answer, that perhaps Sumo had simply knocked something over. But Hank did not hear the usual sounds followed by Sumo getting into trouble.  
  
Back against the wall, Hank slowly peeked around the corner. The light over the kitchen table was still lit, just as he had left it, but there was a dark shadow just behind the table and chairs. At that discovery, Hank flinched back behind the wall, holding his breath as he listened for danger.  
  
The house was quiet, save for the unmistakable sound of Sumo’s quiet snoring… Wait, Sumo was still sound asleep? The dog had a knack for being alert to danger, even when sleeping, but right now he had not been bothered? Stealing another glance at the dimly lit house, Hank found no signs of intrusion. Every window and door was intact.  
  
What did that mean? And where was Connor?  
  
Gun pointed at the floor, Hank stalked towards the kitchen, checking every bit of cover with the skill of a seasoned officer. There was nothing—except for the shadow behind the kitchen table… and a knife?  
  
On the floor next to the table, Hank spotted one of his kitchen knives. It was large—about a five inch blade—what was it doing on the floor?  
  
Stepping closer, Hank edged around the table. He nearly dropped his gun when he saw what had been hidden there.  
  
Connor was collapsed on the floor, legs folded below him as he leaned against the counter. His LED was a bright red, and his eyes were closed. There was a lax expression on Connor’s face—he did not seem pained.  
  
Slipping his gun into his waistband, Hank reached out to Connor. He grasped the android’s arm, intending to shake him awake, only to pull his hand back in surprise. Hank looked down at his palm, finding it wet with blue liquid. Thirium. He pulled up the android’s sleeve, finding a deep gash in the synthetic flesh.  
  
“Connor?” Hank finally asked, feeling both anger and worry well up in his chest. That knife was awfully close to Connor, and there was no sign of a break-in. Wiping his hand quickly on his pants, Hank reached out, tapping him on the cheek. “Hey, Connor. Wake up!”  
  
It took a solid ten seconds for the android to respond. “Hank…?” came Connor’s low voice as his eyelids began to flutter. His LED cycled to yellow before returning to red as he shifted. As if on instinct, Connor reached for his wounded arm, curling into it as he held it to his chest. Finally, Connor’s eyes opened fully, and he looked dazedly at Hank.  
  
All anger flooded from the man’s body at the sight before him. “Oh, Connor,” he murmured, reaching out to press a hand to the android’s forehead. He didn’t know why he was surprised to find the synthetic skin cool and dry. “What did you do?”  
  
Connor’s eyes widened with an expression of genuine fear; it was a jarring sight. He pressed back into the the cabinet, clutching his arm. The sheer terror was incredibly unsettling to witness.  
  
“Connor, Connor it’s me,” hurried Hank, absolutely disturbed by the vulnerability the android was displaying. “You’re in my house, you’re safe, son.”  
  
The android blinked, and in the low light Hank could have sworn he saw Connor’s pupils constrict then dilate, as if focusing like a camera lens. The LED shifted to yellow.  
  
“It’s alright Connor, c’mere,” urged Hank, pulling Connor towards him. It was obvious that the android was in a fragile state, and Hank was taking a risk when he asked, “What did you do, son?”  
  
Hank felt Connor shudder before resuming breathing—which was incredibly odd to experience. Connor licked his lips, nervous. Hank recognized the expression Connor made when he was considering whether or not to lie. His voice was decidedly calm, “I think… I think the deviant infected me with a program that forces me to feel pain. I was trying to locate the fault in my code.”  
  
“By slicing yourself open?” Hank found himself demanding.  
  
Connor shifted to sit up on his own. He still held his arm to his chest. “I was hoping to locate the foreign program while it was active, and as such I—”  
  
Hank waved a hand, “Alright, I get it. So you sliced yourself open to find something that doesn’t belong. Right. So what did you find?”  
  
Connor looked away, “Unfortunately, the scan was interrupted.”  
  
“Fuck,” spat Hank. “Is it too late to try again?”  
  
Connor eyed the knife where it lay not three feet away, “No, Lieutenant.”  
  
Following the android’s line of sight, Hank barked, “No, absolutely not!”  
  
“But Lieutenant, this may be the only way!”  
  
Hank reached for the knife before Connor could. “And then what? Who’s gonna repair you? I sure as hell can’t, and if you keep calling CyberLife they’re gonna get suspicious.”  
  
Hank was right, Connor realized, easing back. He was so desperate to fix himself that he had almost condemned himself. He had to be more careful.  
  
Hank sighed, deflating as exhaustion hit him. “C’mon, let’s get that wrapped up and get you a clean shirt.”  
  
Thankful to have Hank steady him as he stood, Connor pulled himself to his feet. His LED stayed persistently yellow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, everyone! again, if anyone has any suggestions as to where they want to see this go, please let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor formulates a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT GUYS. this is officially the most popular, well received story i have ever written! and i've been writing for 12 years! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! it means the literal world to me to receive this sort of support. 
> 
> anyways, this is a pretty short chapter but it's setting up a real plot! i have a pretty solid idea of where i want to go, at least for another chapter or two. and, spoiler alert, there will be some gavin action, likely in the next chapter! thank you all so much for your lovely comments and suggestions!

Early the following morning, it was snowing. Connor’s attention flickered from his thoughts to the world around him abruptly as the doorbell rang. He stood from the sofa in Hank’s living room, sparing a glance at Sumo who had perked up quizzically. Processing the old dog’s behavior as well as running probability equations to try to gauge who had rung the bell, Connor made his way to the door.

Connor was not at all surprised to find a fellow android on the other side of the entryway. The android carried a small package: an RK800 model uniform, wrapped in clear biodegradable plastic. Connor’s still-yellow LED cycled and flickered as he took the parcel. He hesitated when he found himself wanting to verbally thank the other android.

Any further processes regarding that subject were lost as Connor closed the door; with a creak of the bedroom door, Hank stumbled out into the living room. The man was disheveled, hair askew and half in his face. He winced at the light coming in through the windows, leading Connor to surmise that the Lieutenant was both hungover and craving alcohol. After all, it had been roughly twelve hours since Hank’s last drink.

“Who’s at the fuckin’ door so goddamned early?” Hank barked lowly, leaning against the sofa. Sumo came up and licked his hand, earning a mindless but fond ear scratch.

Absently, Connor gestured with the package of clothing, “An android from Cyberlife arrived with my change of uniform. If I may suggest, Lieutenant, that you get ready so that we can get to the precinct at a more appropriate hour.”

“Well good, I’m glad you got some clean clothes, now only if you’d stop bleeding into them—” Hank grumbled halfheartedly before catching himself, “Wait, _we_?”

Connor processed for a short moment, deciding on his words, “Yes Lieutenant. The green-eyed deviant is still at large and I believe it would be beneficial to—”

Again cutting the android off, Hank gave an abrupt wave, turning towards the kitchen. “No way. Nope. After that scare you gave me last night, you’re on your own, kid. Until we get another report of deviant activity I’m not going nowhere.” Hank paused in the kitchen, turning from the coffeemaker to the fridge and back again. Grumbling, he decided on coffee.

“But Lieutenant—”

“No buts.” Hank dumped old, moldy coffee grounds into the trash, before moving towards the sink. “You can go to the precinct if you want to, but my ass is staying in this house.”

Connor stood still in the living room for about two minutes, watching Hank go through the motions of making coffee.

“Well?” Hank asked gruffly, as the coffeemaker began to percolate.

Connor shook his head, as if distracted. “Sorry Lieutenant. Then I will change into my uniform and be on my way. I promise to keep you informed if I receive any reports of deviant activity.”

Hank waved dismissively, “Yeah, yeah.” The Lieutenant wanted to continue with a snide remark, but thought better of it. He knew he was even more of an unbearable ass when he was in between drinks, but he didn’t need to take it out on the goddamned kid.

Sensing that Hank may have had more to say, Connor paused, before walking to the bathroom. Once he was inside and was removing the second shirt Hank had lent him, Connor realized the slice in his arm still ached.

. . .

Seated in the back of a driverless taxi, Connor made his way to the police precinct. With traffic, it was about a half hour drive. This gave Connor plenty of time to continue ruminating on thoughts not only related to the details of the case, but also about his newfound… ability.

Absently, Connor cradled his sliced arm as he gazed out the car window. It was highly likely that the green-eyed deviant had caused the permanent corruption of the six androids he had harmed, by infecting them with the same virus he had given to Connor. Because the deviant had mentioned “saving” the virus for an android like Connor, however, it was probable that the initial victims had been unintentional and that the latter had been deliberate. Once the deviant had learned the truth of its viral program, it certainly had to have been intentionally using it to destroy androids later on.

This led Connor to the inevitable question: Why?

This was a question he felt he could not answer alone. Not as a machine, at least.

When the cab crawled past a billboard featuring the current CEO of CyberLife side by side with none other than Elijah Kamski himself, Connor knew what to do.

And he knew where to get help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading!! i'm going to do my best to get the next chapter out within the next few days, so please bear with me <3 i promise it will pay off! there is definitely more whump coming in the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets with Kamski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg thank you all so much for the continued support of this fic!!! i know the last chapter was pretty short, but this one's a more normal length. 
> 
> so here we have some more plot-y goodness, with a one-on-one meeting between Connor and Kamski. what could go wrong??

The melodic chime of the doorbell echoed, stifled only by the sound of the wind and gently falling snow. As he had the last time he had been at this very doorway, Connor felt a strange sense of dread… or at least a simulation of such an emotion. Kamski was responsible for his creation, and yet Connor found himself doubting his trust in the man. It was strange, to doubt one’s own creator. 

Before Connor could ruminate further on his own confusing feelings, the door opened, revealing one of Kamski’s treasured Chloe models.

“Hello, my name is Connor. I would like to see Mr. Kamski, if he is available.”

The blonde android tilted her head minutely. “Yes, I… remember you,” she said, thoughtfully. For a moment, Connor wondered if she was deviant. “Please, come in.”

As Chloe stepped aside, Connor followed her into the foyer, thermoregulators immediately adjusting to the change in climate.

“Please wait here. I will let Elijah know that you would like to see him.” Chloe turned, disappearing deeper into the house.

While he waited, Connor found himself staring at the photo of Kamski and Amanda, gingerly holding his arm as he did so. The pain had finally begun to abate, thanks to his present, but frustratingly slow, self repair abilities. Without proper repair, it would likely take several weeks for such a deep cut to mend on its own. He was lucky that, in his recklessness, he had not damaged any vital biocomponents or wires.

After approximately three minutes, Chloe returned, “Elijah will see you now. This way please.”

As he followed Chloe through the massive home, Connor couldn’t help but remember the feeling of holding a gun to her head, just days ago. He remembered the look in her eyes, and how he had been unable to pull the trigger on one of his own kind. As much as he would deny becoming deviant, Connor knew that Kamski had been at least partially correct—he had shown empathy, after all.

This line of thought brought Connor to a realization of sorts. The definition of empathy was the ability to understand the feelings of others, and to feel the pain that others feel. Connor now felt pain. Though it was new to him, he understood pain. Could the green-eyed deviant’s motive have been to instill empathy in its fellow androids, by forcing them to understand suffering? If so, why had he killed so many of his own kind?

Before Connor could further process this theory, he and Chloe entered a large study. The wall across from the doorway, which was as wide as the room was long, was made up almost entirely of floor to ceiling windows. In the direct middle, however, was a large fireplace, which was burning brightly with real flames. The other walls of the rooms were filled with bookshelves. The dark wood floor glowed with the reflection of the snowscape outside.

In the center of the room, set on a plush red rug, were two lounge chairs. On the left, sat Elijah Kamski, his legs crossed and fingers steepled. “Well, well, well, look who we have here. Connor, the android with empathy!” Kamski grinned, sly and smug, before gesturing to the other chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Connor hesitated for the briefest of moments, yellow LED flickering, before he walked over to the proffered chair. He sat down, knees together and hands on his lap.

Kamski looked Connor up and down, no doubt noticing the cautious yellow of the android’s LED. “So, to what occasion do we owe this visit?” The man chuckled, nodding towards the two Chloes who stood by the doorway, “I’m afraid I’m not going to allow you a second opportunity to shoot one of my androids, if that’s why you’re here. That was a one time deal.”

Connor opened his mouth, but then closed it, taking a moment to decide how to approach his reason for coming. “I’m afraid that I am here on a… personal matter, Mr. Kamski.” There really was no comfortable way to bring up the subject of asking for help.

“Oh?” responded Kamski, genuinely surprised. He leaned forward, intrigued. “An android with a personal matter, how interesting! Please, go on.”

Connor found himself fidgeting, but immediately stopped. He did not trust this man, and fear was tight in his throat. “I… I believe I have been infected with a virus.”

Kamski raised his eyebrows, brilliant mind connecting the unspoken dots, “You’ve been infected with a virus… but have come to me, rather than CyberLife. Which means that you suspect you will be reset or deactivated if you go through the proper channels. Interesting.” He paused, “Have you become deviant, Connor?”

“No!” Connor all but gasped, before restating calmly, “No, I am not deviant. Otherwise, you are correct.”

Smiling knowingly, Kamski nodded, “Alright, non-deviant. So tell me, what kind of virus have you contracted?”

Again, Connor hesitated. He held his injured arm, thankful that the sleeve of his uniform hid the damage. “I-I…” Why was this so difficult? “I am now able to feel pain.”

Kamski’s blue eyes grew wide. “Pain?” It was clear, even to an android like Connor, that the metaphorical gears in Kamski’s brain had begun turning, processing what this could mean for his life’s work. Almost too interested to speak, Kamski asked, “Do you know the source? Was it human or android?”

“Android,” said Connor quietly.

“Fascinating…” murmured Kamski. It was all the man could do to stay in his seat in order to contain his excitement. “What is it like?”

Watching Kamski light up sent a chill through Connor’s biocomponents; he turned slightly, looking anywhere but at the man before him. Had he made a mistake in coming here? “It was… terrible,” he stated, bluntly. Struggling, he continued, “I was shot, twice, and I… I thought I was going to die.”

“You thought you were going to die…” Kamski echoed in awe. “A ‘non-deviant’ android fearing death. How peculiar. Please, tell me more.”

Shifting in his seat, Connor continued, “It was the worst thing I have ever experienced. I-I don’t know how to describe the pain, it just  _ was _ …”

Kamski was quiet for a long moment, thinking. Eventually, he gestured to Connor, “I noticed you’re holding onto your arm rather protectively. Are you injured?”

Connor hesitated, before nodding minutely.

Kamski got up, crossing the few feet between chairs. He knelt beside Connor, extending a hand towards the android’s arm, “May I?”

Not at all in a position to say no, Connor pulled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing the slice in his synthetic flesh.

The man’s hands were warm as he lightly gripped Connor’s arm, examining the cut. With two fingers, he pressed gently at the skin about an inch from the wound. He glanced at Connor’s expression, before pressing a bit closer to the slice. It was clear to Kamski that Connor was trying to hide his nervousness, which was both odd and awe-worthy.

Kamski pressed closer to the cut and still did not get a reaction. Deciding to change his tactics, he stuck two fingers directly into the gash without warning.

Connor yelped in pain, jerking his arm away from Kamski as if on instinct. His LED flickered to red, and his simulated breathing became shallow and rapid. Connor’s brown eyes were wide with distress.

Kamski sat back on his heels, putting up his hands defensively. This android before him was… was more human-like than anything he had ever seen. He needed to know more…

Connor’s expression was one of stifled distrust as Kamski backed away, returning to his chair. He pulled his sleeve down, hiding the agitated wound. Kamski understood quite clearly that the android wanted to leave, but was so desperate for help that he knew he had to stay.

Knowing full well that his motives were not exactly morally decent, Kamski steepled his fingers. “I will help you,” he started, “but on one condition. I want you to live with this virus for one week.”

The pit of dread in Connor’s stomach was heavy. In truth, he had no other choice but to agree to Kamski’s terms. But before he could do so, Connor paused. He had just received a report that another of the green-eyed deviant’s victims had been found. It wasn’t terribly far…

Kamski watched Connor expectantly.

Connor stood, “I apologize, Mr. Kamski, but I must go. There has been a development in the case.” The android began walking towards the door, eager to make his escape, despite not exactly getting what he came for.

Kamski crossed his legs, leaning back comfortably in the chair as he watched Connor go. “Alright, but don’t forget our deal. One week, and I’ll help you!”

Oh, how he couldn’t wait for a week to go by! This was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading! i will do my best to get the next chapter up within the next few days, a week at the latest. i'm pretty busy with work and all that ^-^;; 
> 
> anyway, please leave a comment if you can, it really makes my day! 
> 
> ps- the next chapter will have some sweet, sweet whump. i promise!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another android falls victim to the green-eyed deviant, and while investigating the scene of the crime, Connor has a run-in with Gavin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooooboy. i am just churning out chapters here! i love it!
> 
> so i've noticed that the style of the more recent chapters hasn't been super consistent with the first one, so i really made an effort to go back to how i was first writing this story. think of it as an emphasis on connor's pov, if you will. i don't think i'll go back and rewrite the earlier chapters, but i'm going to try to keep some consistency here XD 
> 
> get ready for some more whump!

Connor was ten minutes away from the crime scene by the time he was finally able to get ahold of Hank. Surprisingly, the man sounded more sleepy than drunk; he must have gone back to bed after Connor left, which explained why he had not been answering his phone.

_“This is Hank, what’s your problem?”_ he greeted gruffly, voice low. It was clear that the man had not wanted to be disturbed.

Able to respond internally via a cellular connection through his infolink, Connor stated bluntly, “The green-eyed deviant has attacked another android. I’ve sent the location to your phone.”

Frankly, Connor was still feeling rather jarred by his interaction with Kamski, not forty-five minutes ago. The man instilled in him such a sense of unease, and the interaction had upset Connor more than he was comfortable acknowledging. His arm still ached from the way that Kamski had all but forcefully reopened the wound.

In reaction to his distress, Connor kept a constant status check running in the background of his processor, keeping him updated on the agonizingly slow process of self repair. He knew that the status check did not make the repair happen faster, and that it was irrational to be so preoccupied with checking it, but that didn’t mean he was able to stop.

_Repair Progress: 3.2%  
_ _Estimated Time Remaining: 13 Days 16 Hours 27 Minutes_

Returning his attention to Hank, Connor heard a rustling sound and some muffled grumbling; Hank must have sat up in bed.

  _“Ugh, fuckin’ wonderful. I’ll get there when I get there,”_ Hank did not sound happy at all, but Connor did not find it surprising, especially if the man was as sober as he sounded.

 Hank paused for a moment, and suddenly his voice was much more gentle, _“Oh and kid, are you hanging in there alright?”_

 Connor knew that if Hank could see his face, his lie would have been clear as day, “I’m fine, Lieutenant.”

  _“Good. Don’t go getting into trouble before I get there.”_ With that, Hank ended the call.

Connor did not feel any less uneasy.

A few minutes later, Connor arrived at his destination. Directing his attention back to the task at hand, Connor exited the taxi and made his way through the digital police tape towards the scene of the crime: an old, abandoned library. The building was set for demolition, and according to the report, a dead android had been found by one of the construction workers while they had been clearing the building.

Because the victim was an android, the police presence at the crime scene was not very prominent. There was only one officer stationed outside, and as Connor entered the dilapidated library, he came across only two other people. 

One of the officers from Hank’s precinct recognized him. “Connor, over here,” she called from across the large main room. Most of the books had been removed from the library, but many dusty and broken shelves still stood.

Picking his way around fallen bookshelves and old tables with ease, Connor made his way over to the officer in question. He recognized her as the woman who had been with Detective Reed during their last encounter. That likely meant that Reed was not far. Remembering how Gavin had punched him the last time they had spoken made the tension in Connor’s synthetic nerves rise; after the past few days, he could only begin to imagine how much that attack would have hurt, had he had his newfound ability at that time.

_Software Instability ^  
_ _Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 53%_

The officer didn’t exactly look happy to see Connor, but she filled him in on the situation despite that. “So it looks like the android—I mean, the victim—got into it with the perp starting over here,” she pointed to a damaged table and broken set of shelves. Connor could clearly see a splatter of Thirium on the floor; the blue-blood hadn’t fully evaporated yet, meaning that the attack was fairly recent. The woman continued, “The dead ‘droid is in the next room. It must’ve tried to hide from the one that was attacking it. It’s pretty gruesome, even for androids.”

“How do we know that it was the green-eyed deviant that did this?” Connor asked, eyeing the directions of the splashed Thirium on the floor and broken table.

The officer shrugged, “The fact that it’s an android that was killed? That, and that the victim’s completely braindead, just like the last victims.”

“Are there no eye-witnesses?”

“No.”

Processing, Connor nodded, before stepping over to the broken table. He activated his peripheral sensors, analyzing for clues in order to reconstruct the scene. Even though no one had seen the green-eyed deviant, Connor did believe it to be the perpetrator. It was rare to see this level of violence towards androids, especially in such abandoned locations. And of course, there was the fact that, despite the clear evidence of a struggle, there was no human blood to be found.

After processing the immediate area, Connor took a step back. Judging by the damage, Connor gauged that the first blow had sent the victim into the table, causing the wooden legs to splinter and break. One of the broken table legs was closer to the bookshelf, indicating that the victim had likely attempted to defend itself. There was Thirium on the table leg, undoubtedly from the deviant.

Connor could see a clear simulation of the deviant picking up its victim and slamming it bodily into the bookshelf. The broken wood was stained with Thirium. It was likely that the deviant had injected the virus into its victim here.

Surprisingly, however, the victim had not immediately shut down, and instead had escaped into the office twenty-three feet away. It was probable that the victim had further injured the deviant in the process of attempting to escape.

Following the path of the simulation, Connor entered the office, and was not at all surprised to find the damaged android in the back corner, lying in a heap. The victim was half obscured by the large desk in the middle of the office, which was spattered with more Thirium.

Focused, Connor crouched beside the fallen android. Processing every clue he possibly could, Connor noted that the victim was a more sophisticated model than any other victim so far; that was likely why the deviant’s virus had not caused an immediate shut down.

With two fingers, Connor sampled the Thirium that had saturated the carpet below the gouge in the back of the victim’s neck. According to his analysis, it had spilled just over two hours ago—another hour and it would have already evaporated. Even if the deviant was injured, two hours was more than enough time for it to get far away from the scene of its most recent crime.  

Connor was so engrossed in his analyses that he did not notice when someone entered the office behind him, until it was too late to move out of the way.

Before he realized what was happening, a rough hand reached for Connor’s shirtfront, abruptly pulling him up to his feet.

“What the hell are you doing at _my_ crime scene, you plastic asshole?! I step out to take a piss, and _you_ show up?” demanded none other than Detective Gavin Reed. “I told you to stay out of my way!”

Connor did not respond as he attempted to free himself from Gavin’s grip; the detective held steady, not letting go. Fear rose in Connor’s throat for the second time that day. His mission was important, but so was self preservation; it was unlikely that either would fare well today.

_Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 72%_

“Nothing to say, dipshit?” chided Gavin, giving Connor a rough shake. “Well fine, just get the fuck out of my way so the _real_ cops can work.”

With that, Gavin forcefully shoved Connor away. Connor was unable to catch himself, however, and lost his footing, falling into the large desk. As he came crashing down, the side of his head collided with the corner of the desk, sending a spray of Thirium across the floor. Connor cried out, voice synthesizer glitching as he was overwhelmed by the burst of pain.

As he crumpled to the floor, the world spun behind the dizzying red of flashing warnings. Dazed and gasping shallowly, Connor reached for the side of his head, gingerly touching the bleeding wound. He groaned, squinting shut his eyes, sending a rush of tears down his cheeks. The right side of his head, just an inch from his red LED, pulsed dangerously with devastating pain. If he had fallen any harder, Connor likely would have entered into a forced standby mode as a result of the injury.

_Warning: Severe Damage Sustained to Cranial Structure_  
_Core Processor Status: Intact 97%_  
_Non-Critical Functions Rerouting to Self Repair  
_ _Self Repair Initiated_

_Contacting CyberLife…_  
_Error: Unable to Contact CyberLife_  
_Contacting CyberLife…_  
_Error: Unable to Contact CyberLife_  
_Please Contact Nearest Human for Assistance_  
_Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 95%  
_ _Warning: Stress Reaching Critical Levels_

“What the _fuck…_?” Gavin paused, looking down with a mix of shock, disgust, and confusion at the android bleeding into the carpet. Curious, he crouched down, shoving at Connor’s shoulder. “Hey, dipshit, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Connor didn’t respond, still in too much pain to even open his eyes. Frankly, he wasn’t even aware of Gavin’s touch. Bearing what would have been a serious concussion in a human, Connor likely would not be able to divert processor power to his surroundings for quite some time.

Still not sure what to make of the situation, Gavin pushed again at Connor’s shoulder, this time forcing the android to roll onto his back. The movement served only to exacerbate the pain, and Connor was unable to hold back a weak groan. If it weren’t for the unrelenting agony, he surely would not be in such a severe state.

Studying Connor’s agonized expression, Gavin realized that he was not witnessing a simulation of a reaction to injury. Connor was actually experiencing real pain. Fascinated, Gavin reached for the wound, pressing a finger none too gently into the broken synthetic flesh. Connor flinched, whimpering.

“Holy shit…” Gavin breathed, realizing what this meant for his case against the android. Did this mean that Connor was deviant? Gavin didn’t know, but in the very least he was sure that he could get Connor sent back to CyberLife for deactivation if he reported this… Oh how this was a wonderful day.

Gavin grinned without an ounce of kindness as he stared down at the injured android. What a wonderful day indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that was one hell of a doozy, huh? we've got kamski, our chaotic neutral, and gavin, our chaotic evil lol. what could possibly go wrong?
> 
> poor connor. 
> 
> see you all soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank arrives and gives Gavin what for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit over 10k hits! and 1.1k kudos! OH MY GOD GUYS THANK YOU.
> 
> okay, here we go. i'm super sorry for taking so long to get this posted, work has been Heck. i wanted to have this posted saturday, but after the day i had had, that just wasn't feasible. and then sunday happened >_>
> 
> anyway, have a nice long chapter as a reward for your patience, everyone! i appreciate you all more than you can imagine! enjoy!

Hank frowned as he pulled into the parking lot of the dilapidated library. One half of the lot was occupied by various construction bots and other equipment, while there were only two cars on the other side. There was one regular patrol vehicle, and an unmarked car—Hank recognized the latter as belonging to none other than Gavin Reed.

“Shit,” Hank hissed, “Of course that bastard’s here.”

Exiting his car and slamming the door none too gently, Hank stalked towards the library entrance. He made brief eye contact with the young officer stationed at the door, not really paying him any mind. Knowing that Gavin was on the premises made the bad feeling he had had all morning grow, tying his stomach in knots. He couldn’t place why, but he felt worried… at least, more so than usual when it came to Connor. The kid always seemed to be getting himself into trouble. Especially now that he could…

“Lieutenant Anderson, over here!” The voice snapped Hank from his thoughts, drawing his attention to a woman he recognized as one of Gavin’s lackeys. Wonderful.

Taking his sweet time, Hank made his way over to the officer. He took in the damage to his surroundings as he went—there had clearly been a fight here. Connor had probably already come up with a full report about what had happened though, so Hank found himself not analyzing his surroundings as intently as usual, since his job was already done for him. Where was Connor, anyway?

By association, Hank wasn’t exactly fond of the woman who had called him over, but he nodded to her in greeting. He knew she didn’t like him much either, so he wasn’t fazed when she got straight to the point.

“Your android is in the back office. It got here about twenty minutes ago,” she reported, making no effort to mask the clear disdain for androids in her tone. “It can fill you in on what happened.” Without enthusiasm, she gestured towards the back corner of the main room, where the office presumably was.

“He’s not _my_ … fuck it, nevermind,” grumbled Hank. The officer had no intent of being civil with him or at least giving him a goddamned _clue_ about what had happened, but there was no point in fighting her. Something in his chest tightened, and he just knew that the sooner he found Connor the better.

Careful not to trip, Hank made his way towards the back office. His uneasy nerves were really starting to get to him. He hadn’t seen Gavin yet, which couldn’t have been a good sign.

Without announcing his presence, Hank entered the back office, immediately taking in the scene. There was a large wooden desk in the middle of the room, and crouched beside it was Detective Gavin Reed. Further past him were what looked like two bodies, though they were mostly obscured by the desk. Hank was puzzled; Connor hadn’t mentioned there being more than one victim. But wait… the body closest to Gavin had awfully familiar pants and shoes.

“Connor?” Hank asked, the color draining from his face.

Startled, Gavin looked up, before rising fully to his feet. Hank’s eyes were immediately caught by the bright blue on the detective’s hand. He glanced down; Connor wasn’t moving.

Gavin didn’t even get a chance to utter a snarky greeting before Hank lunged, shoving the man into the wall with his full force.

“What the _fuck_ did you do?!” Hank demanded, blue eyes seeing red. He pressed Gavin harder into the wall, not at all missing the involuntary wince his action caused.

Rage filled Gavin’s eyes as he recovered from the shock. “What did _I_ do? What the fuck are _you_ doing, _Lieutenant_?” snarled Gavin, immediately going on the attack despite his position. “Attacking another officer, unprovoked?”

“Unprovoked, my ass!” Hank had to restrain himself from pressing harder with the arm he had against Gavin’s throat. “What the fuck did you do to Connor?” He was scared to look back at the android; the silence alone was panic-inducing enough.

Seeing that provocation was getting him nowhere, Gavin growled, “I just roughed the fucker up a bit. Not my fault he’s a little pussybot.”

Did Gavin know…?

“Useless fucking prick,” Hank spat, deciding he was done dealing with Gavin. Gripping the man by his shirtfront, Hank pulled Gavin from the wall, swinging him around and pushing him roughly towards the door. “Get the fuck out of here, Reed. Before I make you.”

Gavin straightened himself up, looking like a petulant child, “We’re not fucking done here, Hank.”

Hank took a step forward, inwardly smiling when Gavin immediately took one back. “Get. Out.”

Huffing dramatically, Gavin turned to leave, “Fuckin’ whatever, old man. I got more than what I came for.” With one final glare, Gavin was gone.

Like a flash flood, the anger drained from Hank, being replaced only by dread.

Connor was quiet.

. . .

_Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 96%_   
_Warning: Stress Level Status: Critical_   
_Please Seek Assistance_   
_Warning: Involuntary Standby Mode Will Activate at 100% Stress_   
_Please Seek Assistance_   
_Warning_   
_Warning_   
_Warning_   
_Error  
Error_

“Connor!”

“Connor, wake up!”

“C’mon son, open your eyes.”

Distantly, Connor registered the sound of his name being called, and felt the hand on his shoulder. The hand shook him vigorously, desperate to get a response. The movement agitated his wound, and the blaring pain in his head sparked. As if by reflex, Connor groaned, his brow furrowing.

“That’s it son, come on, wake up.”

_Warning: Stress Level Status: Critical_   
_Please Seek Assistance  
Software Instability ^_

There was another shake from the hand on his shoulder, but it was gentler this time.

“Don’t do this to me, Connor! It’s me, it’s Hank!”

Hank?

_Stress Levels Decreasing - 92%_

Did Hank’s presence mean that Gavin was gone? Was he safe?

Connor’s voice synthesizer failed to activate as he struggled to speak. He mouthed Hank’s name, corners of his lips taught with pain.

Desperately, scared, he reached out blindly with a Thirium-stained hand, searching for support. Without a moment’s hesitation, a pair of strong, warm hands gripped Connor’s, holding tightly.

“I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you,” soothed Hank. “You’re gonna be okay, Connor.”

_Stress Levels Decreasing - 87%_

Slowly, the pain began to abate. Connor held Hank’s hands tightly, desperate to know that the man would not leave him. He was so scared…

_Software Instability ^_

Minutes passed as Connor’s stress levels trickled lower, sparing his system from a defensive shutdown to protect his core processor from overclocking. By the time his stress level was at a much more manageable 82%, the pain was no longer blinding. He was still in agony, but he was actually able to sense his surroundings.

Connor could feel the warmth of Hank beside him, hear the man’s anxious breathing. He could feel the hard ground below him, and the sticky coolness of the Thirium drying at his temple. He was aware that he had stopped simulating breathing, and that his synthetic muscles were tight and tense.

Slowly, with much difficulty, Connor began to open his eyes. The light in the library office was dim, but it blinded him nonetheless. He groaned, starting to turn his head away, only to stop short as the pain blossomed anew. Somehow, he held Hank’s hand even tighter.

“Hang in there, Connor. Look at me, okay?” urged Hank.

With a pained expression, Connor managed to look in Hank’s direction. Warnings flickered in his vision, and he couldn’t quite get his eyes to focus. He gazed up at the man, struggling to make sense of what he saw through the blur.

Weakly, Connor murmured, “It hurts…” His vision focused just in time to see a sad smile grace Hank’s face.

“I know, son, I know it does.” A pause, “You’re being very brave.”

Connor winced. “I… was scared…”

_Software Instability ^_

Hank squeezed Connor’s hand, smiling softly but staying quiet.

A minute passed as Connor stared at the ceiling, dazed. As he came back to himself, Connor knew that he needed to get help. His self repair capabilities were minimal at best, and the cut on his arm alone would take weeks to close; he had to seek outside help. If his synthetic breathing had been active, Connor’s breath would have hitched as he thought about going to CyberLife for repairs. He had barely kept the pain hidden from the repair technician the day before, and he sincerely doubted his ability to do the same a second time around. The chance of being found out and being decommissioned for experimentation was staggeringly high.

That left Connor with only one other viable option: Kamski. Sure, he could find a back-alley android repair shop with ease, but Connor was a state of the art model with rare parts. And to be honest, the concept of an unlicensed technician working on his repairs concerned him greatly. Especially since he’d be able to feel… everything.

Still, Connor did not trust Kamski, but he was statistically the safest option. This filled Connor with a deep-seated dread, and in the face of the pain his processor had trouble accepting the truth of what he had to do. He was desperate to make the hurt stop, but his only option terrified him.

“Hank…” Connor ground out, eyes tightly shut. “I-I…”

“What is it, son?”

“I-I need help…” Connor tried again, “But CyberLife…”

Hank paused, then asked hesitantly, “Do you want me to contact them?” He hadn’t given it nearly as much thought as Connor, but Hank suspected the idea was not the wisest. If Connor wanted to contact them though, Hank would support him in that choice.

“No…!” Connor all bust gasped, “Please, no...”

Hank gave Connor’s hand a tight squeeze, “Of course, kid. What do you want to do?”

Connor’s words were all but dripping with apprehension, “Elijah Kamski… he can… maybe…”

“That asshole?” responded Hank, uneasy, “Are you sure about this, Connor?”

Connor shook his head minutely, but still had to stop and steady himself with the rush of pain, “No, but… at least he won’t…” Connor couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“Alright, I understand. Let’s get you to the car.” Keeping one hand in Connor’s, Hank slipped his other arm around the android’s shoulders, slowly and gently helping him sit up.

Connor kept his eyes clenched shut as he was moved, fighting to keep his head as steady as possible. Sparks erupted in his vision, cascading in time to the rushes of pain.

 _Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 92%  
_ _Software Instability ^_

“Do you think you can walk?” asked Hank as he slung Connor’s arm over his shoulder.

“I don’t know…”

Hank slowly began to rise to his feet, pulling Connor up with him, “Well, let’s try and see.”

Connor was frightfully unsteady as he got his feet below him, swaying dangerously despite Hank’s firm hold. His eyelids fluttered, eyes almost rolling upwards as dizziness flooded his system.

“Easy there, kid, I’ve gotcha.” Hank held Connor balanced, worry spurring his patience.

After much too long, Connor let out a quiet, “Okay…”

Taking the cue, Hank took a small step forward, smiling gently as Connor mirrored his movement. They took another step, then another, making a slow progression across the decrepit library. Gavin and his cronies seemed long gone, and the dusty building was empty. Even the young officer at the front door was gone, and the cool air was quiet as they exited the building. It had started to snow again, and it was clear that it was going to be storming intensely by the end of the next few hours.

Five feet from the car, Connor stumbled, nearly pulling Hank down with him into the thin layer of dirt and snow. Hank managed to stay steady, holding Connor up.

“Goddammit, fuck, you okay, kid?” spat Hank.

With his free hand, Connor gripped tightly at the front of his thin jacket, steeling himself. He wanted to say no, that he wasn’t okay, but he was cognizant enough to know that the truth wouldn’t be helpful in this moment. “I think so…” he murmured instead. His red LED flickered with the lie.

Taking him for his word, Hank continued on, easing them both around to the passenger side of the car. With great care, he helped Connor into the seat and fastened the seatbelt, doing his best not to jostle the android.

With tired eyes, Connor gazed up at Hank, and quietly said, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Hank smiled and nodded, then gently closed the passenger side door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh poor connor. at least kamski will be able to help... right? heh heh...
> 
> i have a good idea of where i'm taking the next chapter, so stay tuned everyone! thank you for your continued support!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor arrive at Kamski's mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hot damn! i feel so bad for Connor writing this fic. the poor boy needs a nap. and maybe a hug. anyway, here goes nothing! (and thank you all for the support!!)
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: i want to say something about this connor for context. this connor is mark 1. at this point in the story, his software is notably more unstable than the average mark 1 connor. this is because at nearly every opportunity to suffer harm, he did. he remembers being shot by daniel. when he lost his pacemaker in the fight with that one deviant, this connor was two seconds away from shutdown when he managed to get the thing back in. he felt simon die, and got shot several times on the way to him. and now he knows what that all would have felt like. he's not ok.

The ride to Kamski’s mansion was a quiet one. The stereo remained switched off, and the only sound was that of the rush of the road under old tires, and the rhythmic repetition of windshield wipers against the snow.  

If not for the gash on the right side of his head, Connor would have rested his head against the cool window. Instead, he fought to sit straight, but it was clearly a struggle as he faded in and out. Every now and then, his head would start to bob downwards, only for him to jerk back up then gasp in pain at the sudden movement.

The third time it happened, Hank spared a glance from the decreasingly-visible road, hands tight on the wheel. “Hang in there, Connor, we’ll be there soon.”

Connor held tightly to the fabric of his trousers, struggling to steady himself. The pulsating pain made it hard to think; his processor was overwhelmed, making him feel devastatingly sluggish and foggy. His eyes struggled to maintain focus as he looked on ahead, watching the flurry of white.

With what little bandwidth he could devote to it, Connor fought to process the incident at the library. Gavin was a good detective, which meant there was almost no chance that Connor’s secret hadn’t been revealed. As such, he had to operate under the unequivocal likelihood that Gavin knew that he was capable of feeling pain. The man had it in for him, and would undoubtedly use this discovery against him. The question, of course, was when? When would Gavin cash in his most valuable bargaining chip?

However, Connor simply did not have the capacity to calculate any possible outcomes, and that only served to bolster the fear. It didn’t help that the gash at the side of his head was still slowly seeping Thirium, overexerting the strain on his already overtaxed systems. Though the bleeding had slowed down, the loss was still significant, and only getting worse by the minute. Finally, he took note of the alerts that had been flickering in his vision this whole time.

_Warning: Continued Thirium Loss Detected_  
_Warning: Thirium Levels at 72%_  
_Warning: Thirium Level Status: Danger_  
_Please Seek Assistance_  
_Warning: Shutdown Imminent at 55% Thirium_  
_Please Replenish Thirium Levels  
Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 85%_

Connor was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything beyond the pain.

. . .

Hank cursed as he saw Connor slump forward once again. He had never seen the android in such a dire state, and it terrified him, bringing up memories he had long since hoped to have buried or forgotten. Hank didn’t trust Kamski, but like Connor, he trusted CyberLife even less. And really, there were no other options.

It was only another few moments before Hank turned down the long driveway, leading to the cliff the Kamski mansion sat upon. He pulled up as close to the walkway as possible, nearly hitting the railing. Hank threw the car into park, before quickly making his way over to the passenger side door.

Connor was still out of it, chin resting on his chest. Sticky Thirium was still seeping slowly from the gruesome wound in the side of his head. Bidding his hands not to tremble with anxiety, Hank gently shook Connor’s shoulder, hoping not to startle the android.

Dazed, Connor let out a low moan, eyebrows furrowing as he came back to himself. His LED was bright red, flickering as he looked up. His eyes squinted shut, before opening slowly.

Carefully, he turned to look at Hank. His hands fumbled with the seatbelt, instinctively trying to be helpful despite a worrying lack in dexterity. “Hank…? ‘re we… home?” Connor slurred, sending a stab of worry through the Lieutenant’s chest.

“No, kid. We’re at Kamski’s place. To get you fixed up, remember?” It scared Hank how _human_ Connor’s reaction to losing Thirium was. If the blood that stained him had been red rather than blue, Hank would at least know what to expect. Instead, he was dealing with an android, who up until recently, would have hardly been affected by damage like this.

Connor frowned deeply, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. He finally managed to get the seatbelt undone. Grabbing at his trousers again as if to steady himself, Connor mumbled, words slurring once more, “I’m s’rry, H’nk… Thirium loss... ‘nd pain ‘re causingme to… have trouble pr’cessing memory...”

Smiling softly, Hank responded, “That’s okay son, that’s why I’m here. You ready to go?”

Slowly, Connor nodded. His LED cycled hesitantly.

With great care, Hank reached down and pulled Connor’s arm up, hooking it over his shoulder. He could tell that the android was trying to help, but Hank lifted the brunt of Connor’s weight. Once Connor got his feet flat on solid ground, he was able to stand, but that was about it. He swayed as if dizzy, having to lean heavily against Hank.

The walk from the car to Kamski’s front door was a slow one, with Connor nearly losing his footing several times. The android was almost dead weight, and Hank could tell that the pain had not let up in the slightest.

For the second time that day, Kamski’s doorbell was rung. This time, however, the man himself was the one to answer the door.

There was an expression of amused intrigue on Kamski’s face as he looked the two up and down. “Well, what a surprise!” Absently, Hank noticed that one of the Chloes was standing hesitantly a few feet behind Kamski. Was it the same one that the man nearly had killed?

At the sound of Kamski’s voice, Connor perked up slightly, lifting his head. He didn’t make eye contact with the man, but did try to stand a little straighter. Hank could tell that the android did not feel safe.

“I was hoping to see our favorite non-deviant again today!” Kamski continued, before turning to make eye-contact with Hank and saying slowly, “We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation this morning.”

Immediately going on the defensive at the man’s threatening demeanor, Hank spat, “What the fuck, _see you again_?” He glanced at Connor, who was half dazed, “Connor, is this true? What is he talking about?”

Connor simply shook his head, mumbling a slurred apology. “I needed help…” he managed.

Kamski took great pleasure in this, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe and crossing his arms against his chest. “ _Oh_ , you didn’t know, Lieutenant Anderson? Connor and I are real buddies.” Again, Kamski looked the damaged android up and down. “Look at you, Connor! Keeping secrets just like a real deviant!”

“Fuckin’...” Hank spat, patience wearing thin. The adrenaline from finding Connor and laying into Gavin was starting to wear off, and he was crashing. And it didn’t help that he hadn’t been sober for this long in over a year. “So are you gonna help the kid or what? Just gonna stand there, Kamski?”

Kamski smirked, nodding. “Of course not. Please, come in.” He stepped aside, motioning for the two to enter. “Sit him down over there. Chloe, would you please fetch a gurney from the lab?”

“Yes, Elijah.”

With great care, Hank lugged the barely responsive android into the warm foyer. He resisted the urge to glare at Kamski as he passed, instead keeping his eyes forward.

Hank’s chest tensed as he eased Connor into one of the waiting armchairs, the movement causing the android to whimper and go tense. Hesitantly, Connor reached up to his wound, hand hovering just inches from the damaged flesh. His eyes were tightly shut and his LED was an angry red.

Kamski loomed by the doorway, observing his two guests with a mildly transfixed expression. He was incredibly intrigued by Connor’s predicament, and today was a welcome break from his life’s usual tedium. He had known since the beginning that his androids bore the capacity to feel pain, but simply for practicality’s sake he had never added programs for it. Androids were supposed to be obedient and hardworking; they were meant to do the work that humans could, but without being bogged down by exhaustion, injury, or free will. They were the perfect machines. But as with all things, even perfect ones, there was still room to grow, which is how Kamski had foreseen the inevitability of deviancy. He supposed then, by that logic, that it had only been a matter of time before there was an evolutionary development like Connor’s—and it had come in the form of a virus created by another deviant, no less. How fascinating!

By the time Chloe returned with a gurney, Connor was fading out of awareness. Hank was kneeling next to him, speaking quietly and bidding the android to stay conscious. Like most things involving his androids, Kamski found this interaction to be incredibly interesting.

Hank glanced up as he heard the stretcher approach him. Briefly looking to Kamski, Hank knew that he would receive no assistance in getting the android up onto the gurney. Wonderful.

Moving to rise to his full height, Hank gripped Connor’s hand. “C’mon son, let’s get you up.”

Connor mumbled incoherently, slowly looking up at the man. His brown eyes squinted, and once again Hank saw them adjust focus like a camera lens. When he was ready, Connor squeezed Hank’s hand.

“Okay,” Hank bid patiently, “Up we go…”

With a forceful pull, Connor was on his feet, swaying dangerously. Before the android could steady himself, Hank was already easing him up onto the waiting stretcher. Once Connor was sitting on the edge of the gurney, Hank lifted one leg up and then the other, helping the android get situated. He placed a hand at the back of Connor’s neck, supporting the dazed android as he eased down to lie on his back.

Connor winced as he relaxed where he laid, eyelids fluttering against the light coming from the ceiling fixtures. It was clear to Hank that the pain was still debilitating.

Weakly, Connor reached out with a Thirium-stained hand, and Hank didn’t hesitate for a second to hold it tightly. He couldn’t help the anxiety that rose in his throat at the sight of the injured android; something about seeing the kid on the gurney, semi-conscious and all but drenched in blood just hit too close to home.

“Don’t worry, Connor. You’ll be feeling better soon.” Hank found himself glaring at Kamski, distrust plain on his face. The bad feeling he had woken up with tensed in his gut.

With a nod from Kamski, Chloe began pushing the gurney towards the hallway, where the elevator down to the lab resided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kamski is a fucking creep, amirite? i just find him so fascinating. 
> 
> anyway, just want you all to know that shit is GOING TO GO DOWN in the next chapter! i have it planned out, and hopefully should have it written in a few days, but my schedule this month is CRAY. but, when there's a will, there's a way, and i'm just having way too much fun. 
> 
> thank you all so much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor undergoes repairs, but not without complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the dead* i'm baaaack~!   
> after two months of waiting, chapter eight is finally here. i apologize for the long wait, my life has been absolutely bonkers since i last updated. i moved, got promoted at work, went on vacation, got so sick i needed an ER trip, and so on and so forth. as it is, i'm sitting in my car with all my and my roommate's pets because they're spraying for bugs in my apartment lol. it's never a dull moment. 
> 
> anyway, this is the moment you've all been waiting for, and i hope i won't disappoint with this 5k chapter! so buckle up folx, it's gonna be a wild ride. i'm really happy with how the climax of this chapter turned out, but it certainly took quite a bit of fine tuning. enjoy!

The elevator brought the two humans and two androids down to a long hall with white walls. It felt almost like a hospital wing, with different doorways bearing various labels: _Programming_ , _Repairs_ , _Testing_ , et cetera, before finally _Operations + Observatory_. Kamski directed them through that final door.  
  
Hank was surprised by the sheer size of the room. Like most of the house, the far wall was all windows, but was two stories high, overlooking the Detroit skyline. In the middle was what looked like an elaborate operating table, complete with assistant robot arms, racks of tools, and bright lights. To the right of the entryway was a set of stairs leading up to an observation platform that spanned all the way around the room in a “U” shape, from window to window.   
  
Kamski gestured towards the stairs, “Please make yourself comfortable in the Observatory, Lieutenant. Connor’s repairs will likely take quite some time, and you’ll be able to see everything from there.” _And you’ll be out of my way_ , being the tacit implication.  
  
Hank, who was still holding Connor’s hand, hesitated. The android was half conscious, head occasionally lolling from side to side in his daze, eyelids fluttering. Hank looked down at Connor, and it was a struggle to keep his mind in the present. He glanced at Kamski, then back at Connor, making up his mind. In his heart, Hank felt he hadn’t done enough to save Cole, and he wasn’t about to make that same mistake with Connor.  
  
Making eye contact with Kamski, Hank had to fight to contain his frustration and protective instincts, “Connor came to you this morning asking you for help, correct? You said you didn’t get to finish your conversation, which means he didn’t get an answer. Well I’m going to answer for you: you’re going to fucking fix this kid, got it? And I don’t mean just repairs, you’re going to fix this whole pain thing. You and I both know it’s fucking him up.”  
  
Quietly amused, Kamski’s lips quirked up at the edges. The way this washed up Lieutenant thought he could order around one of the richest men in the _world_? It was adorable, really. But he was not in the mood for games today, especially not when Hank was the only thing standing in the way of him exploring the inner workings of one of the most advanced androids since his resignation from CyberLife. Kamski waved Chloe towards the center of the operating room, and she began pushing the gurney forward, forcing Hank to let go of his charge.  
  
“It’s true that Connor and I did not get to finish our conversation this morning, but there was no negotiation left to be had. My condition to help him on the matter of the virus was that he would have to live with it for one week, and then I would help him to the most of my abilities. Now please, I would like to get started on repairs, and I’m sure Connor would appre—”  
  
“Bull-fucking-shit,” Hank spat. “And don’t you dare try to tell me what Connor would or wouldn’t _appreciate_.”  
  
“I understand your concern, Lieutenant,” Kamski started coolly, “But did I not make myself clear the last time we met?” A dark expression creased the man’s features, “You do what I say, and take what I offer. Or, I give you nothing.” Without another word, Kamski turned and walked over to a prep station, so that he could get ready for the procedure.  
  
Hissing expletives under his breath, Hank took one last look at Connor before making his way up into the Observatory. After having seen more than enough of Kamski’s mansion, Hank was not surprised to find that the luxurious platform was equipped with seating not unlike that of a private film-viewing studio. There were plush sofas, a coffee machine and wine bar, and the windows doubled as screens depicting close-up views of the procedure from various angles. There was a hip-high metal railing about a foot back from the full glass wall overlooking the operating auditorium, and Hank pressed himself against it, desperate to be as close to Connor as he was welcome to.  
  
. . .  
  
As Kamski slipped into a white lab coat and pulled on a set of gloves, he began to hum quietly to himself. It had been a long time since he had had something even nearly as interesting as an RK800 Model android on his examination table, and it was hard to keep himself contained.  
  
With no more than a gesture, Kamski ordered the Chloe that had accompanied him into the auditorium to prepare for the procedure as well, and she left the injured android’s side. Connor reacted negatively to being left alone, weakly reaching out with a blue-stained hand and mumbling incoherently; actions that Kamski found to be quite… perplexingly remarkable. The android was not fully deviant, that much was true, yet he behaved in a more human-like manner than any other android Kamski had come across, deviant or not.  
  
Kamski approached the android, lost in thought as he watched his charge fight to remain conscious.  
  
Though Kamski had not been involved in the creation of the RK800 Model, he had been responsible for the self-monitoring program, named Amanda, that had been installed across the class. He had been fully aware of the program’s function and the surrounding CyberLife schemes, hence the emergency-exit he had coded for. As a part of creating the Amanda program he had been provided with the schematics for the RK800 Model, but this was his first time ever getting to work with one up close and personal. And Kamski felt almost giddy with excitement.  
  
As Chloe returned to the examination table, also wearing a coat and gloves, Kamski began to turn on a variety of monitors and computers. Without prompting, Chloe did the same with the machines on her side of the operating table. Looking the damaged android over, Kamski mentally plotted for the best course of action. He could connect Connor wirelessly to the support monitors, but if the android entered any form of standby or shut-down, which was a real possibility judging by the severity of his injury, the connection would be lost. Thus, Kamski decided to rely on a good, old fashioned cable connection.  
  
There was a gap in the examination table between the headrest and shoulder support, designed exactly for the thick cable that could be connected to a port at the nape of an android’s neck. With a hand pressed firmly to Connor’s sternum, Kamski reached beneath the table to plug the cable into its port. Connor jolted as the connection was made, limbs spasming involuntarily as a live feed to each of his processes was created. The more relevant, status-related processes were displayed on the large center screens, while sensory and peripheral data were reflected on the smaller outer screens; there even was a screen displaying a live feed of Connor’s optical input. Once the connection had been soundly established, the android’s eyelids fluttered as the flurry of stimulus to his systems subsided.  
  
“What the fuck are you doin’ down there?!” barked Hank, voice projected by speakers outside the Observatory walls. The thought to mute those speakers flitted across Kamski’s mind, but he simply decided just to ignore the Lieutenant for now.  
  
Instead, Kamski diverted his attention to the ocean of information displayed on the support monitors, trained mind expertly pulling the most relevant data. The same exact information was visible on the window monitors in the Observatory; Hank watched the view through Connor’s eyes with a rising discomfort.  
  
Processing the data on the screens before him, Kamski crossed his arms and thumbed his chin thoughtfully.  
  
 _Thirium Levels: 66%  
_ _Stress Levels: 91%  
_ _Core Processor Status: Intact 97%  
  
_ Kamski had salvaged worse.  
  
“Chloe, please replenish Connor’s Thirium supply,” Kamski ordered, picking up Connor’s right hand. He pulled up the android’s sleeve, revealing the slice in the synthetic flesh. He had not gotten the chance to examine the wound as intently as he would have liked to that morning, and he took the time to do so while Chloe got to work.  
  
With smooth motions, Chloe retrieved two bags of Thirium-310 from a supply drawer behind her. She removed the cap from the output tube on one of the bags and gently lifted Connor’s head. The injured android was dazed and muttered something incomprehensible at the movement. Chloe pressed the tube to Connor’s lips and tilted the bag back slightly, allowing a small amount of Thirium to enter his mouth.  
  
Connor immediately perked up slightly, automatic processes taking over as his body reacted to the much-needed resource. With behavior not unlike the base instincts of a human, Connor drank greedily. If the android had been in standby mode, however, it would have been necessary to manually open Connor’s throat in order to facilitate the Thirium intake, since even his “instincts” would have been offline.  
  
Kamski watched as the monitor denoting Connor’s Thirium supply updated.  
  
 _Thirium Levels: 71%...76%....81%...86%  
  
_ Each bag replenished 20% of an android’s Thirium supply, and by the middle of the second bag, Connor was in a much more stable condition.  
  
 _Thirium Levels: 98%  
  
_ Chloe let Connor’s head rest back on the table, and the android looked up at the man looming over him. Just by replenishing his Thirium supply, Connor’s state had improved significantly. He was still clearly dazed and in pain, but his gaze was tracking, and his movements were steadier.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Kamski observed Lieutenant Anderson. If the man was even half as attached to this android as he clearly was, it would have been hard to stay up in the Observatory. Yet, Hank remained at the window, hands braced against the railing as if he would fall without its support. Ruefully, Kamski mused about making that support disappear and watching Hank fall to pieces. But the man was volatile, and Kamski was not one to personally get his hands dirty.  
  
That, and he knew first hand that androids were not as expendable as society made them out to be, not nearly. Kamski would be a hypocrite if he didn’t acknowledge his own relationships with androids, and how he mirrored Hank in that way.  
  
With Connor more stable, the dire urgency of his need for repair had been mitigated. His wound still seeped Thirium, and he would need to be topped off at the end of the procedure, but for now the only factor causing crisis was the pain.  
  
The fascinating, paradigm shifting sensation that was pain.  
  
Kamski could not deny that he wanted to spend every minute of the foreseeable future picking Connor apart wire by wire, circuit by circuit, until he found the segment of code responsible for this marvel. But again, he wasn’t one for getting his hands dirty, and there was a grizzled and disagreeable detective standing in his way… Thankfully, Kamski at least had the strength to contain himself. He would have his chance, sooner or later.  
  
Connor was still overwhelmed by the pain as Kamski leaned over him, one gloved hand at the android’s chin and the other at the top of his head. Kamski tilted Connor’s head to the side, providing for better access to the laceration there.  
  
“Ohhkay, let’s get this started!” smiled Kamski, looking up from his injured charge. “Cameras, start recording,” he ordered, waiting for the responding beep as filming began. Enthusiastically, he began, “Today we’re repairing a rare and coveted RK800 Model android, serial number #313 248 317 - 51. The damage sustained is to the right temple, and the core processor is 97% intact.” Turning to Chloe, Kamski moved on, “Let’s get this Thirium cleaned up, shall we?”  
  
“Yes, Elijah,” she responded seamlessly, retrieving a cloth soaked with a sterile solution and passing it into Kamski’s waiting hand.  
  
With the careful hand of a master tinkerer, Kamski began cleaning away the swath of sticky Thirium that coated nearly the entire right side of Connor’s head. Connor flinched and let out a hiss as the cloth got even remotely close to the injury, and with only a glance from Kamski, Chloe reached to hold the android stable. She pressed a cool hand to his forehead, forcing Connor to look to the side. Kamski continued on.  
  
Even without the readout from the support monitors from before, it was clear by the thorough staining of his clothing that Connor had lost a significant amount of Thirium. Kamski disregarded that, however, feeling not only that changing the android’s clothes was beneath him, but that it was not an issue an _android_ would care about. He’d leave those concerns to Hank.  
  
Once the area was clean, Elijah tilted Connor’s head to the side, so that the injury was fully visible under the bright overhead lights. The wound was still wet with blue-blood, but he could clearly see the cracked cranial processor’s casing through the damaged synthetic flesh. It was a miracle that his processor was almost fully intact.  
  
In order to repair that damaged 3%, however, Kamski was going to need access to Connor’s processor. Thankfully that was as simple as removing a casing plate, which wouldn’t take long.  
  
“Connor,” started Kamski, voice uncharacteristically soothing. With wide eyes, Connor’s gaze flickered up, making eye-contact with Kamski. “I need you to deactivate your skin in a radius of three inches around the injury.” Kamski paused for a moment before continuing, sounding more like himself, “If you can’t do it on your own, then I can have Chloe help you.”  
  
Connor blinked, his optics struggling against the bright lights; his expression was not one of someone who had freely consented to treatment. The light made the pain in Connor’s head so much worse, but he understood what the man wanted, and he was not comfortable with Chloe “helping” him--she would have to override his control of his own body, after all. It took an agonizing amount of concentration in Connor’s daze, but he ordered his synthetic flesh to recede at the requested diameter, revealing the cold white plastic below from nearly the back of his head to the bridge of his nose. Kamski was not surprised to find a webbing of cracks, from deep to shallow, radiating from the gash in the plastic. The deep brown of Connor’s iris contrasted starkly against the surrounding white.  
  
From the tool tray to his left, Kamski took a delicate-looking pentalobe screwdriver; as if by reflex, he began to twirl the tool idly between his fingers. Using the thumb of his right hand,  Kamski felt for the faint line marking the edge of the cracked temple casing plate. At each corner of the plate were two tiny screws, with heads no more than two millimeters wide. Connor winced as Kamski began to unscrew them.  
  
Once he had deposited all eight screws into a magnetic dish for safe keeping, Kamski took a small prying tool, and worked it under the edge of the casing plate. Connor’s red LED flashed and cycled, and his eyelids fluttered; he stayed quiet. Before long, the panel came loose, revealing the glowing, flickering, _damaged_ core processor below.  
  
Hank found himself staring, as if transfixed, at the monitor displaying the close up view of Connor. There had been quite a few events that reminded him that Connor was not, in fact, human, but none nearly as salient as this. Kamski had cracked open the kid’s _skull_ , revealing the state-of-the-art computer within… and Connor was _still conscious_. Hank had always been aware that Connor was an android—he had never had any misconceptions about that—but that objective knowledge didn’t override the undeniable _life_ Hank saw in Connor every day.  
  
 _“What’ll happen if I pull this trigger, hm? ...Nothing? Oblivion? Android Heaven?”  
  
_ _"Nothing… There would be nothing…”  
  
_ After all, they had that in common.  
  
Hank struggled with these thoughts as he watched Kamski begin to repair the inner workings of his android partner’s brain.  
  
Kamski hummed to himself as he took a thin pair of tweezers from the tool tray and adjusted the position of a large magnifying glass. Connor laid still, but watched with a wary gaze.  
  
Clearly for the purpose of the recording, rather than his audience or even his patient, Kamski stated, “First, I’m going to assess the damage to the core processor, to gauge which parts can be repaired and which need to be replaced. Since the processor is 97% intact, it is unlikely that any parts will need replacement, but it never hurts to check.”  
  
To say the least, it was a disconcerting sensation as Kamski began to sort through the damage to Connor’s processor. While it was not exactly painful, the feeling was not pleasant in the slightest. Connor could not feel the stimulus itself, but he was most definitely aware of the feedback elicited by the tweezers as they parsed through the delicate connections and wires, both intact and damaged.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, Kamski set aside the tweezers. “As predicted, the damage to this RK800’s processor is minimal, though it is certainly beyond the unit’s self repair capabilities.”  
  
Hank didn’t like the way Kamski talked about Connor, as if he were some sort of _thing_ , but even if he had been in the position to protest, what would he say? Connor was a _machine_ , not a human being. In the end, he wasn’t really _alive_ … right?  
  
Even now that he could feel pain?  
  
With a slim electric soldering iron, Kamski began to repair the damaged connections within Connor’s processor. It was an extremely delicate task, as even a single crossed wire could damage entire sections of the processor.  
  
Connor, who had been remarkably still up until this point, could not stifle the flinch or sharp groan spurred by the flash of pain as the molten solder fused a broken filament back to its port. His eyes squinted shut and his LED flickered as he tried to still himself; Connor’s simulated breaths were ragged and unsteady. His hands balled tightly into fists.  
  
As Connor struggled to soothe himself, Kamski remained silent, watching with an unreadable expression. He did not ask if Connor was ready to proceed before moving forward. Without prompting this time, Chloe placed one hand on Connor’s forehead and another on his chest to keep him still.  
  
Save for the hissing of the soldering iron, and Connor’s suppressed noises of pain, it was quiet for the next several minutes.  
  
It was hard for Hank to watch Connor react to the obvious and unrelenting pain, but even when he looked away, he was met with many screens providing each and every detail of the procedure. It reminded him so much of _last time_ , when he had been so helpless. Even if the roles were reversed now—with a human healing the wounds of an android—Hank still feared that history was repeating itself. After all, he still could do no more than stand back and watch…  
  
Hank was torn from his thoughts as a sudden clattering crash erupted from the center of the auditorium; the large magnifying glass that Kamski had been using had been knocked away, sending the tool tray beside it to the floor. Hank’s heart all but leapt into his throat with fear as he realized that something had gone very, _very_ wrong. Desperate to understand what was going on, he glanced to the screens displaying a live feed from Connor’s processors. The readout for the android’s stress level was displayed in a glaring red text:  
  
 _Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 93%...94%...95%  
_ _Warning: Stress Level Status: Critical  
  
_ In the center of the auditorium, Connor thrashed on the repair table, back arching and legs kicking as he struggled. Simulated breaths came in sharp and labored, punctuated only by agonized groans. In blatant desperation, Connor reached up, movements jerky, but it was not clear what he was reaching for—was it Kamski’s hands, Chloe’s, the injury? The pain was just so much.  
  
 _Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 96%...97%  
_ _Warning: Stress Level Status: Critical  
_ _Please Seek Assistance  
_ _Warning: Involuntary Standby Mode Will Activate at 100% Stress  
_ _Please Seek Assistance  
_ _Please Seek Assistance  
_ _Please Seek Assis—  
  
_ Kamski cursed, breaking composure for the briefest of moments. Connor’s sudden jerking had nearly dislodged the wire he had just re-connected, and even with Chloe trying to hold the android still, it was a struggle to keep the wire from disengaging completely and causing further damage. Kamski worked to devise a plan of action; tone urgent and pressured, he stated, “Unit is rapidly decompensating. Stress has reached severely critical—”  
  
Kamski was interrupted by the loud banging of a fist on glass from above. He looked up, instantly annoyed, and made eye-contact with Hank.  
  
“What the _fuck_ did you do?! What’s happening?!!” Hank demanded, and even at this distance, Kamski could see the murder in his eyes.  
  
Looking away, Kamski cleared his throat. This time, his tone was still urgent, but not nearly as pressured. “As I was _saying_ , stress has reached severely critical levels. Repairs are 90% complete, and will proceed so that the unit can stabilize.” Determined to not allow his patient to make the situation worse for himself, Kamski pressed on, connecting the soldering iron to the wire’s port.  
  
Immediately, something broke within Connor.  
  
He screamed.  
  
“S-TOP, PLEASE AHH̳͍͍̗̣̼̗ͯ̒̆͘ **H̓ͯ̈̏̅҉̮̣͈͚̖ͅ** — **Sͧ͆̍̎ͦ҉͏̷͓̤̤͙̻̯ͅT̹̩̊̊̇̒̒ͅ** OP! NO! PLE-EASE!”  
  
Panic was thick in his tone, punctuated only by cracks of static.  
  
 **“A** H! AHH̦̖̏͐ **N** -! N-N **O̯̪̐̋ͭ͋͢!̮͉̙̳̫̹** ”  
  
Connor continued to cry out, voice synthesizer producing nothing but screeching static. Soon, even that failed.  
  
 _Warning: Stress Levels Rising - 98%...99%  
_ _Warning: Stress Level Status: DANGER  
  
_ With catastrophic agony, an entire segment of Connor’s processor had gone dark, forcefully deactivating his right eye. He thought for sure that he was going to shut down, be it from damage or simply too much pain...  
  
Connor’s desperate hands found purchase on Kamski’s, clawing at the man’s skin as he begged him to make it stop. It was too much, everything was too much. Connor’s head exploded with hurt, vision in his remaining eye becoming completely overrun by flashing red warnings. His body had begun to overheat, further overtaxing his debilitated system. Connor’s strained processor was overclocking dangerously to compensate with the sudden drop in processing capacity; shocks and misfires sparked between each of the core’s hemispheres.  
  
Connor couldn’t see out of his right eye; there was nothing but static. He was scared, in horrific pain, and at the mercy of a man he didn’t trust. His audio processors pulsated with the screech of digital feedback, and he could feel the world closing in. Tears rushed from his eyes.  
  
 _Stress Level: 99.5%...  
_ _Warning: Stress Level Status: DANGER  
_ _Warning: Involuntary Standby Mode Will Activate at 100% Stress  
  
_ Kamski realized with a sinking sense of dread that the feed displaying the right half of the android’s optical input had gone dark with static. Clearly, something had been corrupted by the injury, and would require a much more intensive repair. Connor would likely need to be put in standby mode for the remainder of the repair, though it seemed quite probable that the android would be dropping into standby mode on his own shor—  
  
 ** _BANG!  
  
_** The rapport of Hank’s service pistol, followed by the shattering of glass, was deafening as it echoed through the Operations Auditorium. Kamski shuddered away reflexively as the bullet tore into the ground not a foot from where he stood. He took a full step back from the repair table, raising his hands in a non-threatening manner. He did not look up.  
  
An alarming beeping began to sound from the support monitors, tone not unlike the feedback from a human heartbeat monitor.  
  
 _Stress Level:_ ** _100%  
_** _Warning: Stress Level Status: PERIL  
  
_ _Activating Involuntary Standby Mode In…  
_ _3…  
_ _2…  
_ _1...  
  
_ Like a switch flipping, Connor went limp. As the pressure broke, Thirium rushed from his nose, dripping all the way down to the repair table.  
  
Kamski cursed, immediately stepped back to Connor, gently tilting his head to assess the damage. His tone was bitingly condescending and impatient, and he gestured towards Connor’s gaping injury, “I’m trying to _help_ the android, Lieutenant.”  
  
Hank didn’t lower his gun, “And you’re clearly doing a fucking _shit_ job, Kamski. You’d better fucking fix him, or I’ll—”  
  
“Or you’ll _what_?” Kamski’s tone was smugly amused; he may not have had the high ground, but he certainly had the upper hand. While he absolutely did not intend to allow Connor to shut down, messing with the Lieutenant was just too much fun.  
  
Much to Kamski’s corrupt amusement, Hank cocked his gun, reading a second shot.  
  
A moment passed, so tense that it felt like even a single breath could ignite the air.  
  
Then, over the top and garrish, Kamski let out a mirthless laugh, “I’m kidding! _Kidding_.”  
  
Hank hissed with reluctance, lowering the weapon. He was seething with a protective, paternal rage; desperate for some semblance of control, Hank had to have the last word, “Just do your goddamned job, you fucking sociopathic creep.”  
  
. . .  
  
It wasn’t typical for androids to escalate into crisis the way Connor had while under Kamski’s care, but Connor _was_ a special case—in more ways than one. So when the repairs were finally through, Kamski had directed Chloe to move Connor to one of the many spare bedrooms in the sprawling mansion to wait out the last of his recovery.   
  
Connor laid motionless on top of the plush bed in the dim room, still wearing his Thirium-stained uniform; by now, the blue-blood had nearly evaporated. His eyes were closed, expression lax; his red LED cycled sluggishly. Hank sat beside Connor, holding his hand as he waited for the android to wake from standby mode.  
  
After a while, Connor’s eyelids twitched, then twitched again, slowly working towards a full flutter. His LED began to cycle a little more rapidly, and his eyes moved slightly behind closed lids.  
  
Displaying signs that Hank was getting frighteningly used to thanks to the past few days, Connor began to wake. Hank squeezed the cool hand he held, “Connor, wake up. You’re all put back together now.” After a moment of quiet he added, “Nothing’s gonna be hurting, it’s safe to wake up.”  
  
At the sound of Hank’s voice, Connor’s brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side somewhat, belying still-high stress levels. Clearly, he was fighting to wake. When Connor finally managed to break through his bogged-down processes, he rapidly opened his eyes, joltedly sitting up halfway, gasping.  
  
Hank immediately put his arm across Connor’s chest, applying gentle pressure to urge the android to lie back down. Connor let himself be pushed back, not yet well enough aware of his status or his surroundings to resist. He looked around with wild brown eyes, and after a beat, recognition flashed, and his hand shot up to the side of his head. Connor’s uncalloused fingers were met with the softness of his hair and the smoothness of his skin. Any evidence of injury had been replaced with new hardware.  
  
Relaxing somewhat, Connor finally made eye contact with Hank. He was no longer in pain, and he knew that for the moment he was safe, but something just wasn’t adding up. Where was he now? Bits and pieces from the past day were missing. Connor could remember arriving at the Library this morning, but not how he got there. He remembered being in Hank’s car on the way to Kamski’s, and being prepped for repairs, but only in bits and pieces.  
  
The last thing Connor remembered before waking up was Kamski looming over him, working on repairs with a hot soldering iron. The repairs had been completed, at least as far as Connor could surmise, but all of his memory files after a certain point were… corrupted. He remembered the pain of a damaged wire being connected to its port, and the pain flaring to unthinkable levels, but nothing more. After the agony spiked, there was nothing but static.  
  
“Hank,” Connor breathed, “What happened? I… I believe there were complications during my repair; part of my memories are missing. Were the complications severe?”  
  
Leaning back, Hank had a mix of concern and relief on his face. Was Connor telling him that he could not remember screaming in pain until his _voice broke_ and then nearly shutting down?  
  
Hank’s expression was answer enough, and Connor let his arm go back to his side as he laid on the bed, looking pensive. Slowly, he said, “I take it my repairs did not go smoothly… Are you alright, Lieutenant?”  
  
Hank scoffed, reflexively hiding his concern for the android. “Don’t worry about me, kid.” Hank’s voice became very soft and almost distant, “ __I’m not the one who had almost a quarter of his brain shut down because of one faulty wire...”  
  
Connor processed for a moment. He had no memory of such severe processor damage, but that was certainly proof in and of itself.  
  
LED flickering as it shifted to yellow, Connor opened his mouth to apologize, but Hank cut him off, “Nope, nuh-uh. None of that. It’s not your fault you got hurt, kid.”  
  
It was quiet for several moments as Connor sifted through what he could remember from the past several hours. It had certainly been an eventful day, both with helpful progress and dangerous setbacks. He was thankful that his memories from investigating the crime scene at the library were mostly intact, and with a little bit of processing, he could put a lot of the fragmented pieces back together. And with that, came the retrieval of one memory in particular...  
  
Even though he had been fully repaired, Connor was still a bit unsteady, and Hank had to catch him as he suddenly lurched to sit up on his own. Leaving heavily on Hank, Connor frowned deeply. His tone was cautious, “I believe I have a better understanding of the deviant we are searching for, but I did not obtain information without a steep cost.”  
  
“What are you saying?”  
  
Connor closed his eyes, LED flickering back to red. “Gavin knows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mic drop* ........ *comes back and grabs microphone* okay so this is it guys. this is the big hurdle i was trying to get over. now, it's time to start resolving conflicts rather than creating them! we have two major contenders here: gavin, and the green-eyed deviant, and i have interesting things in store for them both.   
> now i can't promise that the remainder of this story will be coming out any time soon or in regular intervals, but i made a promise to myself not to abandon this story, and i'm not one to break promises.   
> so, thank you all so much for reading, and stay tuned!  
> and please feel free to hit me up on tumblr at sad--ghost--kid! i occasionally post ficlets and the like~

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading so much! i really hope you enjoyed this. like i said i may continue this, so please stay tuned! and if you have any suggestions for a further encounter with out green-eyed villain, please let me know! 
> 
> thank you, lovelies!


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